


Polarity

by bizzylizzy



Series: Wind Over Tide Universe [5]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Asexual Character, M/M, Other, Pining, Unrequited Lust, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4219419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bizzylizzy/pseuds/bizzylizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Itachi and Shisui on the complexities and disappointments of being in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: A metric butt-ton of swearing, blatant talk of sex, contemplation of non-consensual acts, ect, ect. Basically awful.
> 
> The purpose of this piece is exploration and blowing off steam. It's rough and I can only hope I caught all my crazy tense changes.

There was nothing in the world that made Shisui as miserably aroused as Itachi. Itachi didn’t even have to _do_ anything to achieve the effect.

Because, _fuck_ the kid was a looker. Just on the outside, the crust of what made him real, was enough to have anyone wanted and wishing. And then there was the real substance of Itachi, those quick eyes and hands. The way his words danced with Shisui’s, stopped him in his tracks and knocked him back onto the ass. There was the _genius_ you couldn’t deny or escape and Itachi’s frustrating and endearing ideology that made Shisui want to scream and laugh and drown Itachi all in an hour.

If that wasn’t enough of a reason to be crazy turned on by even the suggestion of Itachi’s presence, to _want_ him in a desperate, cold way, then there was this final damning fact.

Uchiha Itachi was the only person who still loved Shisui.

It wasn’t negotiable. This Shisui knew like he knew the reach or his arm or the curve of Itachi’s neck. That _stupid_ childhood infatuation had rotted and from that had burst something far more terrifying and inconvenient. From that childish insistence had bloomed Itachi’s unnervingly straight stare into Shisui’s eyes, that knee melting quirk of Itachi’s lips, and the way he always called Shisui on his bullshit. Because Itachi was so certain that he _had_ Shisui, that he would say whatever he thought.

Or maybe there just wasn’t a relationship worth having if it wasn’t honest as bare bones on a beach.

“I want,” Shisui said one day when they were sitting in the sun, Itachi’s bare back as he mended his shirt. “To fuck you until you can’t remember your name.”

And Itachi, so used to Shisui’s vulgarity and lewd nature, just glanced back at him. “Doesn’t that seem a little extreme?”

“Call it making up for lost time,” Shisui suggested, waving his fingers and watching the sun through them. 

“Yes,” Itachi replied smoothly. “All that lost time.” He lowered his lashes, this _look_ on his face Shisui couldn’t describe. It was like a suckerpunch in his gut, and Shisui wanted to curl in on himself. He was sick with _wanting_ Itachi. Wanting to touch him and take him apart and just have something of this gods _damn_ boy sitting in the sunshine mending a shirt like some kind of house wife. The mass murdering _killer_ mending his tideturned clothes like he was a meek and mild maiden.

It made Shisui feel like the worst kind of cretin, because he’d hated people who’d wanted those who didn’t want them. Who took what they wanted even when it wasn’t offered with sincerity. Shisui cut his teeth through his lip.

“Haven’t you ever fucked someone before?” Shisui demanded. Vicious because he hurt and wanted and he thought he was moment away from grabbing Itachi by his hair and just _taking_.

Itachi looked up, those eyebrows raised as he looked at Shisui’s cramped posture, the tension in him. “If,” Itachi began. “I ever want to fuck someone, you’ll be first on the list, I promise.”

And the look on Shisui’s face was enough to make Itachi laugh, which only made it worse.

“Amaterasu's _tits_ why would you _say_ something like that!” Shisui demanded, rolling over. “You’re just making it worse, you little shit-eating tide scum.” Itachi laughed more, honest laughter that made a flush creep over Shisui’s body as he rolled back over to look at Itachi, curled over and now pressing his hand over his mouth to hide his smile.

And Itachi _looked_ back at him, through him, in him. 

Shisui wanted to say he was so in love with Itachi that it made him stupid. That _that_ was why he wanted to fuck the kid until he couldn’t remember his name and he screamed Shisui’s. That ridiculously strong jerk in his chest when he saw Itachi was the driving force behind his _need_ to get some kind of action of of the boy. He had no idea how else he was supposed to get it across to Itachi.

“So can I at least think about you when I’m jacking off,” Shisui asked once. Itachi was covered in battle gore and just looked at Shisui, asking if he were serious. If there were going to talk about this _now_ , right _here._

“Do you really need to ask my permission for that?” Itachi returned, slicking blood off of his hands.

“Yes, because I want to be _consensual_ ,” Shisui retorted with a viciousness Itachi didn’t deserve.

“You can think whatever you want, just don’t tell me about it,” Itachi allowed, gracious in his mercy to the peasant. Shisui smirked.

“I am imagining you in a geisha get-up. Very hot.” Shisui began. Itachi just looked put upon, and then he smiled.

“So you’d like me better if I were a woman?” Itachi asked.

Shisui made a hand motion. “I would like you either way, any way. Would you like _me_ better if you were a woman, or I was?”

Itachi contemplated the second option too long, and Shisui lobbed a severed head at him.

With love, of course.

It wasn’t like they didn’t sleep together all the time anyway. It wasn’t like Shisui couldn’t wake up spooned around Itachi close as you fucking please, the guy’s hair in his mouth. It wasn’t like Itachi was reluctant to touch Shisui. Or be touched. Shit, Shisui could make Itachi groan if he could get his fingers into Itachi’s hair, and they’d both worked knots out of each other’s bodies. It wasn’t _like_ Itachi was disgusted.

It was just like.

Like.

Like he didn’t _want_ it. Not just he didn’t want Shisui, but he didn’t want sex in general. Shisui had met monks with more lust in their bodies than Uchiha Itachi.

And how could someone who did not _want_ you like that, return the fevered devotion Shisui felt in the very bones of his being? How, in the name of all gods and devils and spirits, could you _love_ someone and _not_ be physically attracted to them? 

But Shisui knew there was something there. He felt it in the dip of Itachi’s head when he smiled. The way he breathed easy when Shisui was next to him. Itachi’s presence drew Shisui razor tight with fucking _desire_ , and Shisui’s presence relaxed Itachi. It pulled the tension from his body and left him limp as a cat in the sun. Itachi made Shisui feel hollow and _shallow_ like a cheap whore whenever he looked at Shisui and smiled and conveyed all the fucking affection anyone could ever want in just a tide turned _smile._

Shisui couldn’t do that. He couldn’t speak the words with enough sincerity with his lying silver tongue. He couldn’t smile with utter devotion. He couldn’t do that thing Itachi did with his _eyes_ that conveyed everything from tolerance to contentment. Shisui had spent his life _conning_ people into thinking they were in love with him. He could lie his way into someone’s affections or lust with ease.

He couldn’t do this with Itachi. It wouldn’t be like before, displaying a false front to these people he seduced. It would be honest. That’s a half terrifying thought, but if Itachi would just _let him_ then Shisui would have to stop obsessing about this. Of course that’s placing some kind of noble intention over the fact that he honestly just wanted to fuck Itachi because he’d pretty and Shisui got stuck staring at the shape of his face for hours. Shisui was just like every other person he allowed to fuck him back in his great days of conning people. He just wanted this act for his own pleasure. He wanted to believe in the delusion that someone else wanted him.

Shisui could make anyone want him. He could stir desire in anyone he pleased, but he wanted it from Itachi. He needed it from Itachi, because of the way the sun dappled on his cheeks. The way his mouth moved and his hands curled in the sheets. Shisui had never needed anyone else’s _validation_. He’d never really cared what anyone thought about him or how he felt, but now he did.

Now it ate him up and hollowed him out like a week old carcass on the beach.


	2. Cutting Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And with one kiss  
> You inspired a fire of devotion  
> That lasted for twenty years  
> What kind of man loves like this?-Florence and the Machine

Love is a bare boned, knife edged thing for Itachi.

Perhaps it was war that wore away all the plush softness in his heart, or maybe it is just who he is. It’s hard to say if he’s a product of his environment and time, or if he would have always been this strange, this harsh, this cruel. Itachi loved his family, in his own way, and it lead to their slaughter. He loves Sasuke, and it lead to his brother being an orphan driven by revenge. He loves Shisui…

But that is a completely different kind of love, Itachi is realizing.

Itachi’s love for Sasuke, for his clan, for his village, is an austere thing. It drives him to think of what is best for these things outside of himself. It turns him into a means to an end, and pares him down to a purpose. This is comfortable, because it is as it should be. It’s the kind of love Itachi was raised with.

Itachi’s love for Shisui makes Itachi aware of _himself_ , and it does not bring him ease. It makes him _aware_ of himself when Shisui looks at him, when Shisui dissects Itachi with his clever silver tongue and flays Itachi’s defensive reasoning from his bones. Itachi’s love for Shisui is insular, focused on the two of them, consumed with a pair, such a small part of the world at large and the forces at work in it. 

It makes no sense, for two such cogs in the machine to believe their personal drama or happiness matters anything.

Love, Itachi is coming to realize is not logical or entirely pleasant or as pleasurable an emotion as people seem to think it is. He finds it rude, vulgar, vicious and cunning. It sweeps your feet out from under you and beats you senseless with nonsensical actions and thoughts. It captures you in the curve of someone’s cheek, memorizing the curl of their lax hand, the quirk of their lips. It rewards you with smiles that are worth nothing, and draws you in with the barest touch of a hand.

It makes Itachi aware of how he perceives Shisui’s affection for him. It is in Shisui’s obsession with Itachi. It is in how often Itachi can tell Shisui is thinking of him, how Shisui alters his life around Itachi’s. It is in the way Shisui is belligerently pushy about Itachi’s health, the way he sinks his fingers into every aspect of Itachi’s life and colors it with himself. 

But these are all things _Itachi_ does to those he loves. He manipulates them for their benefit. He orchestrates things and knows their every activity. It is what he did with Shisui when they first met, bludgeoning Shisui with his presence and demanding entrance into every aspect of Shisui’s life. It is selfishness, demanding to be central to someone else’s life. To be worshipped with their thoughts and actions. 

But how Shisui truly shows affection is through touch. Shisui will obsess and batter and manipulate anyone. To that, he’ll fuck anyone he wants to, but it’s not quite the same. Itachi has always known Shisui is a sensual being. You can see it in the way he moves, the way he touches things and chooses soft fabrics. He keeps smooth stones and woods which he rubs with his fingers and tucks into Itachi’s pockets so he might enjoy them as well. 

It is like listening to another language being spoken and slowly coming to understand it. Itachi did not grow up in a family where physical contact was encouraged. They were Uchiha, hugs and gentle touches were traded for sparring and weapons lessons. Even Itachi had his own way of warding off Sasuke’s affectionate hugs with a poke to his forehead. Shisui plunges Itachi into this language he knows, submerging him in it. Itachi has learned that the brush of Shisui’s fingers into his means more than a whole litany of words. The press of Shisui’s fingers as he checks Itachi for injury is more concern than any words could ever convey.

And when, after a nightmare, Itachi sits in bed with his head in his hands, body hunched in on itself and wracked with the terror and guilt boiled into a putrid sludge in his brain, the brush of Shisui’s hot palm up his spine is healing.

Shisui has made Itachi aware that he’s miserable. He’s lonely. He has _desires_ other than what is best for Konoha and for peace. He misses Sasuke. He regrets making his soft brother grow up alone. He doesn’t know what else he should have done, but he regrets the blood dripping off his hands. Shisui makes him aware he is just a fallible human creature, struggling best he can through the tangled mire of life.

They are both creatures of shadow, living in the shadows, and no one notices or cares when shadows touch, merge, dance together as the light fades. No one looks for their shadows in the darkest of nights. Even shadows have their secrets.

Like a braid too complicated for practicality, or a hairpin flashy enough for a court lady, or the indulgence of a late morning, ignoring the sun pouring through the leaves or a window.

There is, of course, a certain amount of guilt and shame in this relationship. Itachi’s life should be austere. There should be no pleasures in it, only deprivation for the crimes he’s committed. Shisui always has fun with this bit of logic. Shisui likes to tear it apart, question Itachi’s motives, his guilt, his loyalty, and it always end badly.

That is the problem with knowing someone well. Then they know how best to hurt you.

Itachi has many way of justifying his relationship with Shisui, of course. Shisui is a valuable informant and a good fighter. He’s easier to handle if he’s infatuated with Itachi and keeps the idea that he will one day be able to, in his own words, fuck Itachi “until he can’t remember his name.” He reasons associating with Shisui is beneficial to his overall goals, and Shisui’s radically different ideology hasn’t affected Itachi. It might hurt when Shisui takes his logic apart, but it hasn’t changed Itachi. 

This is all based on the assumption that Itachi can keep control of his own infatuation, which he tells himself he can. After all, he is sure he could kill Shisui if he needed to. Their relationship’s depth doesn’t so much rest on the cherishing of each other’s well being as the depth and length of knowledge they have about one another. Shisui is familiar. Useful. That is why Itachi finds himself by Shisui’s side again and again.

Much of Itachi’s life is lies.

“Itachi-san.”

Itachi looks up. Kisame never goes as far as asking if Itachi’s all right, but there’s the silent implication that he’s considering perhaps voicing the question aloud. Itachi almost smiles, because this is such a different relationship from the one on his mind. This is one of respect and distance and mutual benefit. It is _comfortable._ Itachi gives himself a mental shake and starts his task of getting the fire going.

“Sorry, I was thinking about my shadow.” Itachi apologizes. 

“Does he always make you look green?” Kisame asks, wryly curious because Shisui is an anomaly in Itachi’s orderly life. Shisui is a vibrant, vicious slice of Mist and attracted Kisame’s interest in a way that’s only natural. They are the same breed underneath their different training. Killers. Vicious and ruthless men--though Shisui is far more selfish.

“Most days.” Itachi isn’t sure if this is a lie or not, but this is banter. This is polite nothing talk that makes Itachi feel a bit more human. A bit less monster. It falls away and they work in silence until Kisame comes back with fish. Kisame can always find some aquatic creature to eta if there’s water near by. Itachi doesn’t have the knack.

“He’s an interesting choice,” Kisame says, setting aside livers and hearts for Itachi to eat. It’s a kindness, subtle and shadowed. Kisame has _reasons_ to want to keep Itachi alive and well, the simplest and most relevant so he won’t have to haul Itachi’s dead weight to the next healer or town. The more complex….

“I don’t think he was a choice,” Itachi replies. That is a lie. He chose Shisui when he was twelve and he refused to let go of him despite Shisui’s wishes. “He’s more...a hazard of the job.” Kisame doesn’t look convinced, and it rattles Itach. It’s all well and good for Kisame to know Shisui is infatuated with Itachi, but for him to think Itachi has more than tolerantly fond feelings for Shisui? To think they might be something more than just informants and possibly bed mates?

That’s discomfiting. Alarming. The great irony there is that while Itachi has spent many hours lying next to Shisui, there’s a complete lack of traditional bed mate activity, not for lack of offers. That is something Itachi hides religiously from Kisame. From everyone but Shisui. Sex is a physical need. Itachi has heard enough bawdy jokes and lewd comments to know sex is a normal and acceptable activity for any killer, but just spending the night with someone, taking comfort in the feel of them in the dark, seems like an emotional deficiency.

Monsters do not need or take comfort.

Itachi is not a very convincing monster. He does not even believe himself most of the time.

“You should tell me what’s chewing on your mind.” Shisui’s words are rough and strained. He’s stopped screaming and cackling like a deranged child, and now he’s just still. Itachi’s sitting on the floor beside the bed, monitoring the IV he’s stuck in Shisui’s hand, trying to decide if he can get Shisui to drink, making sure his heart doesn’t stop he or doesn’t stop breathing.

There’s a downside to going up against high class missing-nin--they have unusual poisons and non traditional fighting techniques. While Shisui has managed to knit together a network of exiled, kidnapped, or escaped healers around the continent, they aren’t near any. This means it’s Itachi’s turn to watch Shisui’s body struggle, and wait to see if it gives out on them.

“It’s not important,” Itachi replies, selecting a syringe and adding it to the IV.

“I’m dying. You should tell me,” Shisui complains. He has bruises under his eyes. His lips are cracked and bitten. His tongue is slightly swollen, but he can breathe now. Itachi didn’t have to intubate him. He’ll live.

Itachi smiles, just a fraction. “You’re not dying anymore.”

“We’re all dying, all the time,” Shisui replies with exhausted gravity. “It’s just not all of us make such dramatic displays of it.” There’s a pointed look in that, and Itachi smiles.

“We all have our faults.” Itachi is holding Shisui’s hand under the pretense of checking his pulse, but he can see that jumping just fine in Shisui’s neck, strong and wild as Shisui’s gaze. Shisui’s heart labors under the effects of the poison, but it’s up to the task. Shisui has used and abused himself through the years, but his body is strong. It’s ready for the challenge. Itachi’s body can take a cold and turn it into a near death experience these days.

Maybe this is another reason to justify Shisui’s presence: Itachi needs someone he trusts to care for his body.

Another lie to soothe his conscience. The truth is very simple. Very precise and with no ornament. It’s obvious as a broken bone when shoved through skin and just as dangerous and painful.

Itachi is in love with the madman before him, the con artist and killer and liar with a silver tongue. As love, it is a knife edged thing, but Itachi is no stranger to knives. It’s a comfort, for a blade is took for self preservation.

And so is love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your kind comments. Life has been rough lately and you all made me smile. 
> 
> I have literally three drafts of Itachi's side of the relationship, and I'm still not totally pleased with it. Shisui's chapter is very soon after Itachi and Shisui meet up again after the massacre, this chapter is in theory further down the road.


	3. Gracious Allowance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simply teasing fluff pulled out of drafts. This one is set when Itachi's about 21, so much later in the relationship than the previous chapters. Hope you've enjoyed these incredibly self indulgent drabbles.

“I am a fucking whore.” Shisui said to the early morning air. He’d been up all night, watching Itachi sleep. Watching him breathe. Listening to the in and out wheeze of Itachi’s breathing. There’s _inflammation_ in his cursed lungs. Joints too. That can be seen especially in the mornings as Uchiha Itachi’s body attacked itself from the inside out.

“I’ve got from a pedophile to a necrophiliac,” Shisui muttered to himself. “My mother should have drowned me. Hells in a handbasket.” Shisui watched the pulse in Itachi’s neck, the shape of him on the bed. The curve of his fingers. 

“And you don’t have any idea,” Shisui’s voice broke on that. Strained. “How much I--even if this relationship if just one eternal cocktease and sex with anyone _else_ will never be satisfying again because all I can think is ‘this person isn’t half as hot as Itachi.’” Shisui rubbed a hand over his face. “You have ruined my life, and I _still_...” Shisui stopped as he saw Itachi’s lips curl. Saw the tensing of the muscles on his face.

Shisui was on him in a second, hand grabbing, knees clamping onto Itachi’s hips, but Itachi didn’t struggle. He just smiled without opening his eyes.

“I really love it when you sweet talk me,” Itachi said, voice hoarse from coughing, so much deeper than it had been when they first met. His cheeks were more sunken too, but his damn eyes were still the same. The shadows of his lashes on his face.

“I really love it when you eavesdrop on private conversations, clam-brains,” Shisui hissed, pinched Itachi’s nose shut. Itachi wrinkled his nose and opened his mouth. 

“I thought you were talking to me?” Itachi opened his eyes, just slivers. There was an intimacy here that frightened Shisui. There was this _familiarity_ and _comfort_ to their words and actions. There was a heavy implication of trust and best interests as Shisui just wanted to stick his fingers in Itachi’s mouth to see if he’d bite.

“Your mouth would look much better with my dick in it,” Shisui crossed his arms to avoid the whole fingers in mouth temptation. Itachi raised his eyebrows.

“Your come ons have gotten far more predictable and less creative lately. It’s starting to hurt my feelings.” Itachi said it in his wry tone, little emotion beyond that expressed in his brows, in his lips. 

“The honeymoon is over. After you wake up covered in blood from your partner, it’s never the same again.” Shisui made a “honest to the gods” hand motion and Itachi rolled his eyes.

“You were not _covered_ in blood. I coughed a little on you.”

“I was traumatized.”

“You freaked out like an academy student,” Itachi corrected, smirking. He looked tired with bags under his eyes and a general lassitude to his features this morning.

“You don’t understand things that need to be freaked out about. Like people coughing up blood on you in there sleep. And letting lecherous old men with a spoken and avowed and very deep lust for your body roll around in bed with you.” Shisui pointed at Itachi’s face. “It’s dangerous for you, and I just might get ideas.”

“You always have ideas. You are full from your head to your toes of lecherous ideas, most of them involving me and that has nothing to do with anything I do.” Shisui had to admit Itachi had a point. Itachi existing was enough of a reason for Shisui to fantasize about him.

“Head to toes is not where my lecherous ideas live,” Shisui countered with a lascivious grin. Itachi just sighed a little. “I think _my_ feelings are hurt that you’re so calm about my never ending dreams of ravishing you.”

Itachi patted Shisui’s thighs. and left his hands there “Your sexual obsession with me is honestly one of your less disturbing quirks.” 

“I’ll try to be more disturbing about it,” Shisui promised caustically. Itachi just smiled, obviously saying he couldn’t. “Is it because you think you can kill me?”

“There’s no think there.” Itachi’s eye bled Sharingan red.

“ _Oh?_ ” Shisui’s smile cut across his face and he leaned forward. “Think so, little minnow?” There was instantly danger in Itachi’s face, vicious intent, and Shisui had a moment to feel Itachi's body go tense before he was suddenly flipped over. Shisui fought. Instinct demanded it and he lashed out, kicking and grabbing. Itachi’s morning stiffness and aches be damned, Shisui wouldn’t go down easy.

Itachi was, disappointingly, a superior fighter. He had finesse and theory that Shisui’s lack of training had never given him, and he always had the upper hand with Shisui. Also, it was hard to kick someone when they were between your legs. Shisui struggled to keep his hands free of Itachi’s darting ones, twisting, fighting, tempted to grab for hair but that was the surest way to a bloody nose Shisui knew.

Itachi’s knee landed rudely in Shisui’s stomach as he lunged forward, grabbing one hand and then darting down to play a dirty trick. Illness be damned, Itachi was _fast_ when he wanted to be. For a moment Shisui thought Itachi was going to go for Shisui’s neck with his _teeth_ , but then he did worse and kissed Shisui’s _jaw_ \--hot and languorous and horrible given all the adrenaline thrumming through Shisui right now. Shisui froze up and Itachi had his hands pinned in an instant.

“Because it gives me the upper hand,” Itachi said, with his best damn smirk on his face, voice throaty and rough this fine morning.

“Fuck you, sharkchum,” Shisui retorted, a little giddy. It was hard not to be, pinned beneath Itachi, burning sensation of his lips still clapped to Shisui’s jaw, his hot hands on Shisui’s wrist, one finger on the start of Shisui’s palms.

Shisui had gotten off on less than this before. If Itachi would just give him another kiss, maybe closer to the mouth, and a leg to grind on….

“It doesn’t take much, does it?” Itachi asked, wry. Shisui snorted as Itachi sat on his stomach. Pretty obvious Shisui was the only one suffering from intensely amorous feelings now, wasn’t it? Shisui hated and loved these moments.

“Hey, I can get hard because I smell something that reminds me of you,” Shisui replied dryly, then with a cutting smile. “Don’t underestimate my unbridled sexual passion.”

Itachi released his hands, and Shisui quickly tucked them around Itachi’s thighs to keep down the urge to _touch_ anything on himself or Itachi. Shisui didn’t have anything special going for Itachi’s legs, except that they were attached to Itachi. 

“I’ve seen it in action. How could I underestimate it,” Itachi replied with ultimate sarcasm. Shisui scoffed. 

“Hey, the problem was _you_ , all right? I have never before concussed myself trying to seduce someone,” Shisui pointed out. 

“Uh-hu,” Itachi taunted. Honestly they had both been pretty drunk, which was why Itachi had decided at all trying to get it on with Shisui was a good idea, but alcohol and already pretty non-sexual attractions did not great nights of passion make. Also Itachi was a giggling drunk and had dumped Shisui off the bed into a windowsill.

“Look, I’m imagining you a couple inches down and with an entirely different expression. So could you get off so I can go take care of this while the image is still fresh in my mind?” Shisui asked archly. “Or give me another kiss to send me on my way?” Shisui arched his eyebrows, giving Itachi his best leer. Itachi rolled his eyes at Shisui’s weakness of flesh or whatever they were going to call it. Itachi patted Shisui’s hands, letting one do a kind of lingering stroke that Shisui’s brain decides was suddenly the most erotic thing possible.

“Will you _get off_?” Shisui demanded, shoving at Itachi and wriggling his awkward way off the bed, glancing back only to see the _vast_ amusement playing over Itachi’s face. Shisui raised his hand in the most offensive gesture he could think of, and Itachi just smiled at him. Shisui, to his great shame, lacked the courage he needed to whip out right there in retaliation. Besides, he wasn’t sure it would even bother Itachi. He’d probably just go back to sleep. One day Shisui would just do that. Just stay on the bed and see what kind of response that got him.

Shisui still couldn’t decide if the acknowledgment of “you make me horny as hell” was an improvement. He also couldn’t tell if the sometimes possibly sexual touches and kisses were bliss or cruel torture. Mostly he still felt like a huge, hormone filled monster drooling all over Itachi’s steadily withering form, which frankly freaked him out some days.

Didn’t stop his body, but did freak out his mind. He had mixed feelings about that.

A few minutes later, Shisui a better, kinder person with a lack of completely steady knees. Itachi had, true to form lately, burrowed back into bed, wrapping himself in blankets. Shisui groaned as he lay back down on the bed. He should be moving--going back to Oto and his people there, but that would be hard to do without knees. He liked to think he was raising a self sufficient cult of free thinkers who could take care of themselves for a few days. Itachi thought he was insane. He was probably right. 

“I at least get post-coital snuggles, right?” Shisui asked, pressing a loosely fisted hand between Itachi’s shoulder blades. 

Itachi yawned. “Did you wash your hands?”

“Practically drowned myself trying to get all clean for you,” Shisui mocked.

“I don’t think you can drown,” Itachi returned, twisting his fragile and rubber spine around too look at Shisui.

“Oi, you’re not supposed to believe the propaganda I spew. That’s only for my cultists.” Shisui lifted himself up enough to set himself down behind Itachi. Itachi rolled back over and let Shisui settled around his sharp form and dangerous angles. Soon he’d be back to cutting himself every time he tried to handle Itachi. No more good handles here for entirely different reasons.

“I only believe the words you don’t say.” For a moment, Shisui thought he was being mocked again, but then the meaning caught him. Shisui levered himself up on and elbow and leaned over Itachi, frowning.

“Are you calling me predictable?”

“I am saying that I know you.” Itachi didn’t even open his eyes for that, but then he allowed a little sliver of grey to show.

“Dying makes you sentimental,” Shisui returned sharply, and Itachi smiled, closing his eye fully and rolling back into his pillow.

“You can stay on the bed next time,” Itachi added, blissful face already half asleep. Shisui choked. Now he would have to stay next time or it would be some kind of defeat.

“Amaterasu's _tits_ , there’s something wrong with you,” Shisui snapped, staring at the curve of Itachi’s shoulder, and how much sharper it was than it had been just a few months ago. It wasn’t fair, this gracious allowance for all Shisui’s deficiencies. It was the cruelest of attacks disguised as tolerance, and it made Shisui feel flayed and raw along every nerve.

What would be asked in return?

“Several things, probably,” Itachi agreed, serene.

“So….can right now count as next time….?” Shisui asked, pushing Itachi’s self sacrifice to the wall. Tension crept up Itachi’s spine. He reached behind his head and grabbed the bed’s other pillow, clapping it over his ear before giving Shisui a thumbs up. It took Shisui only half a moment to realize the tension was suppressed laughter. Shisui decided to help it along with a well placed jab to a place where he _knew_ Itachi was ticklish, and the resulting brawl, bloody nose, and sprained fingers were worth everything.

Even worth being in love with a dying man.


End file.
